Maya's Whipped
by poisonnwine
Summary: Maya's whipped, or maybe she's just in love. (Established lucaya)


**another lucaya story, oops.**

* * *

It's two am, and yet, here she is standing outside his apartment building.

She told him she'd stop by the second she got back from vacation with the Matthews. It was two weeks, or more like two and half, whatever, she's way too lazy to count out the days. Riley would know, or maybe Lucas.

She texts him that she is here, on his fire escape. She can't believe she climbed it all-he lives _four_ stories up. She should have made him come down, but she knows that there would be more of a chance he'd get caught, and she kind of wants to lay in his bed for a while with him forever, in his sheets, the smell of his cologne and his mother's laundry detergent ghosting over her nostrils.

He unlocks and opens his window for her. He locks it, every night, because of robbers and bad guys, and all other bad things his mother witnesses on the news. Maya personally never locks her window. It's only locked when Lucas sleeps over; when he tells his mom he is at Farkles. Maya's mother trusts her enough to have Lucas in the same bed as her, so they don't have to worry about that part.

Maya climbs through, it's easy because of how small she is, and Lucas wraps her up in this tight, overwhelming, _comforting, perfect, great,_ hug. He asks her if she got shorter and she asks if his accent got thicker. Then she rises up on her tip toes, leans close to his face and shouts out a, "ha hurr!" and Lucas laughs, shakes his head and kisses her before her heels reach the ground.

Maya crawls into bed with him, under his covers, learns he hasn't slept because he was waiting for her, and they fall asleep on accident. It's stupid and dumb, and absolutely ridiculous, but every time she tried to get up, or Lucas told her she should probably go, she just ignored logic and held onto him tighter. She despises that this cow boy has roped her so tight that she's incapable of moving away from him.

So when morning comes, and his mother is knocking on his door, saying it's time to get ready for church, Maya jumps off his bed and onto the fire escape. After they are in the clear, his mother walking away from the door, Lucas pops his head out the window, smiling at the blonde still on his fire escape. "You were supposed to go home, ya know? I just wanted to see you."

She rolls her eyes and makes an excuse that she was too lazy to get up. He nods at this, a smug grin she's seen way too many times displaying on his face. Then he does something crazy: he asks her to attend church with her— _the most boring thing activity you can possibly engage in_ —and she's even crazier than him apparently because the next thing she knows she's running home to change and fresh up.

She expects her mother to be gone already on a shift when she gets home, but she's still home, just _getting ready_ for her shift. Maya tells her they got back last night and slept at Riley's. Katy said she assumed so, and Maya tells her she is going to church with Lucas and his mother. Her mother breaks out into loud laughter at this, "you _hate_ church."

"It's not that bad," she says. It's not, really. Ever since eighth grade, when Lucas sort of got her to pray, it hasn't been that awful, but she still despises going. She only goes on Christmas and Easter, and **_strictly_** no other times of the year.

"You must really like this boy," her mother says. Maya rolls her eyes, but doesn't deny it. When Lucas' mother picks her up in their pick up truck – yes, Lucas' family is one of the only families in New York with an actual vehicle to get around – Lucas smiles at her, kisses her on the cheek, and his mother wonders aloud why they are not more elated to see each other. Lucas says that he didn't even realize she was gone; his mother scolds him, she smacks him, and he laughs.

* * *

Lucas and Maya sit at Topanga's with Farkle. It's the autumn of their junior year, and Maya's already turned in and worked on more homework than she has in her entire life (okay, maybe that's slightly exaggerating, but it certainly _feels_ that way.) It's Lucas' fault, really.

Yeah, Riley was always on her back about finishing her assignments on time and putting effort into them, but Maya would almost always turn it in late, pulling answers out of her ass right before turning it in. She always looked at it as not mattering—it wasn't _that_ big of an impact on her grade. She could pass without doing the homework, but then she started dating Lucas.

He invites her over one—okay—and then he just doing it. She says to herself, _okay, it's a trap._ Riley does this with her. She invites her to come over, promising binges of Netflix and endless snacks, and then when Maya arrives, Riley tells her they have to do their homework first. Riley won't let her copy or anything, and Maya is just so unwilling to do it, so she'll just end up falling asleep on Riley's bed, being woken up every five minutes by her nagging best friend. Needless to say, she didn't complete homework with Riley.

With Lucas, he'd invite her over, say he needs to finish his homework packet, and request for her to wait. But then, then, after fifteen minutes of waiting, she'd pull her home work out and do it with him—she'd mostly copy at first, pretending they were working together, but now they _actually_ work together. It kind of sickens her, but she knows it's for the better. She's actually doing a lot better in school.

They do their homework together a lot now. When she goes to his house on a weekday, that's _typically_ what they do. She probably studied for four tests before Lucas Friar was her boyfriend, and now she's studying for them all.

It's routine for them to work on their academics together. She likes doing it with Lucas. She feels more focused, and when she needs help with something, he explains in easy words, never making her feel stupid. He never seems annoyed with her amounts of questions or however long it takes to explain the answer. He's happy to help.

So it's normal to her when Lucas turns to her and asks if she wants to go study, but it's completely bizarre to Farkle, whose known Maya his entire life; whose never even take one note in class, is just _agreeing_ to go study. He knows it has to be code for something.

"You know guys," Farkle says after they step up to go. Farkle stands up too, giving them a knowing look, his chin down slightly, a faint smile on his face. "You don't have to make up an excuse to dispose of your third wheel. If you want to go make out, or whatever you do, just tell me. I don't want to be an imposer."

Maya laughs, "what are you going on about Farkle?" she glances at Lucas with curious eyes and a furrowed brow. He looks just as puzzled. He smiles at Farkle.

"You're not being a third wheel," Lucas tells him. "You wanna come study with us? You'd have to bring your own text books though because I know yours are a lot more genius."

"Guys," Farkle puts up his hands, laughing, "stop, I get it. Okay? Be honest."

"We _are_ ," Maya stresses, her smile mellowing into a straight line.

Farkle narrows his eyes on her, studying her like one of his scientific equations. He opens his mouth, then shuts it. He looks at Lucas, shocked and in awe. "You," he says to Lucas, "got," he pauses, smiling, then shaking his head, and becoming serious, "Maya _Hart_ ," he widens his dark navy eyes widening, pointing his finger at her, "to _study_?" he inquires, raising his eyebrows.

"Yes," Lucas answers at the same time Maya pulls the Farkle's finger forcefully toward her, tugging his entire body towards her, throwing off his balance. She jerks him back, causing him to stumble on his feet. He's laughing still though.

"Shut the hell up," she kicks him in the shin.

"Ow, Maya, God," his laughing ceases, but he's still talking in that Farkle kind of way that means his stifling laughter.

Lucas grins in amusement, shakes his head, and says Maya surprised him too.

Maya grabs his arm, pulling his whole body down with it, "you want next, huckleberry?" she growls.

 _"No,"_ he tells her with complete sincerity, his smile dropping off his face.

She grins, satisfied. She releases her grip on him, but instead of just letting her hand fall back to her side, she locks his hand with hers. He smiles adorably at her and she beams back.

Farkle rubs his shin, and then his neck, "all I know is that the next time I need Maya to do something, or more likely," Farkle gives her a pointed look, " _stop_ doing something, I'll be calling Lucas."

Maya furrows her brow, narrowing her eyes, grimacing. Lucas though gets amusement from what Farkle says. He doesn't laugh out loud, but he huffs out a breath of laughter, and Maya wants to teach Farkle a lesson. She braces forward, about to grab Farkle by the collar (he's a lot taller than her now, but she still isn't afraid to take him down), but Lucas pulls her back, murmuring out her name in a sort of reminding way. They are going to do homework, Maya suddenly remembers.

"Watch your back Farkle," she growls at him before they leave.

She hears him laughing as they exit the doors. "I don't think I have to as long as Lucas is around!" he shouts at them.

Maya ignores him because Lucas is kissing her cheek and giving her this look that she's only ever seen him use on her, and she just _doesn't_ care.

* * *

She sits with Riley on her bed, painting Riley's feet a turquois color. Riley plays the "Maya and Riley" playlist on her phone. It's this thing they made online. It's a music streaming playlist that they both can add music to online. They don't really like the same genres or artists, so this way they can both have a taste of what they want.

Sometimes they will judge each other's music. "What is t _his?"_ "You like _this?"_ "Please, pretty please, _please_ change it." They know each other, they know what each other's music preferences are, and when a song comes on that isn't familiar either of them, they know there's been a glitch, but something different happens this time. A country music song begins. Riley questions it, denies to putting it on the playlist and reaches to change it because Maya detests country music, it couldn't have been on her playlist.

Riley is utterly shocked and speechless when Maya stops her, telling her she added the song to the playlist.

It's not deep country. It's the nice kind of country that Riley enjoys, but she hasn't heard the song or band before, and she didn't think Maya would have ever _wanted_ a country song playing.

Riley sits still, her jaw dropped and eyes round and open. "What, what—what?"

Maya shrugs it off, continuing to paint Riley's fidgeting toes. She curses under breath when Riley moves and she gets it on her best friend's skin.

"Riley, stay still," Maya pleas.

"You, _Maya Hart_ , detester of all things country—the whole existence of Texas and country life, like a country song?" she sounds more giddy than amused.

Maya sighs. Riley is too agitated with excitement. She'll finish it later. She closes the nail polish, crosses her legs, sitting like a pretzel and shrugs a shoulder. "It's okay."

"You added it to the playlist!" Riley rejoices. "You _like_ it."

"No, I don't," she argues calmly, her chin lowering, her eyes steading with Riley's.

"Yeah you do."

Maya sighs, her shoulders slumping, "fine," she whispers. "I like a country song," she mumbles, her eyes shifting away from her friend.

Riley squeaks and throws her hands up in glee. She wraps her arms around Maya and Maya groans.

"Oh, my Maya, how great it is that we've finally found a genre we both like."

"I never said I liked the genre," she mutters. "I like a song. One song."

Riley backs off of her, smiling at her timidly. "Do you like it because of Lucas?" she's fidgeting her hands and raising her eyebrows. Maya laughs and rolls her eyes.

"Yeah, I guess," she says. "I mean, yeah, he's the one who told me to listen to it."

"He told you to listen to a country song and you did? Like… On your own time?"

Maya deadpans at her with a sigh, resisting the urge not to smile. She nods, grinding her teeth together. "Yeah…," she confesses in a low octave and volume.

Riley covers her mouth with her hand, giggling.

Maya smirks at her, rolls her eyes another time, and requests if she can finish painting her nails because _"you look ridiculous."_

Riley shuts her trap about Lucas (thank God) and they listen to the country song, and Riley finds it pretty good too. A One Direction song comes on next (Riley), then a Fifth Harmony one (Riley), and then a Panic! At The Disco one (Maya.)

All Riley's toes are painted and Riley's on her laptop, scrolling through twitter or something, while Maya tries flips through the pages of a vogue magazine.

"Do you want to go to Sarah's party with me this weekend? It's on Friday."

Maya thinks it over, remembers what is planned on Friday, and then internally groans, squeezing her eyes shut momentarily. "Can't. Sorry honey," Maya sets the magazine down, looking towards her friend.

"What are you doing?" Riley asks, moving her laptop off her lap so she can get a better view of her best friend who is laid out at the bottom of her bed, her knees to the ceiling, her waves falling off the bed, the magazine face down in her lap.

"I'm hanging out with Lucas."

"He can come too, silly. Farkle's coming. And Zay."

Maya bites her lip. "We have plans."

Riley tilts her head. "What are you doing? You always tell me about big dates with Lucas."

Maya opens her mouth, then closes it. She takes a deep breath in and then spits it out: "this isn't something to brag about."

"What is it?"

"Really, Riley, it's nothing."

" _Maya_ ," Riley whines.

And because Riley is Riley, Maya sucks it up and coughs it up. "Lucas is taking me to a…," she licks her lip, smacking her lips together in slight annoyance, "hoedown."

Riley's face goes blank. She blinks, then she parts her lips, speaking up shortly after. "You are _kidding_ , right?" she asks, genuinely seeming like she's wondering. "Because I know you joke about country stuff all the time, but you sounded extra serious right there, and Lucas isn't even here for the joke, so I don't know why you would be cracking jokes about it. Is this practice?" she inquires in that sweet, but ramble Riley kind of way.

"It's not a joke."

Riley smiles. Then she bellows out a laugh, kicking her feet up and down. Maya takes it, but frowns at her the whole time.

"He—it's just!" she sits up from laying on her back. "He was so excited about it—I couldn't say no, Riley. You didn't see the look on his face."

"Aww, Maya," she hums, a grin plastered to her face. "I can't believe I'm saying it, but you're _whipped_."

"I'm _what?_ " repeats, going pale with disgust.

"You're whipped!" Riley says it again—those words that Maya is having so hard of a time stomaching. "You're whipped like cool whip, you're more whipped than lemon meringue."

"Riley, I want you to listen to me closely," she sits on her knees, clasping her hands in front of her. She sits up straight, using her most professional tone. "I am _not_ whipped."

But Riley is still grinning and then shouts out, "If he asked you to ride the horse he delivered, you'd jump on the saddle before he could even say yee-haw." She sounds like Goofy from Mickey Mouse, but Maya is pretty sure she's trying to muster up a southern accent.

"Stop," Maya grimaces, cringing. She covers her face with one hand, looking away. She shakes her head, her eyebrows slanted inwards, her eyes becoming slits, her forehead wrinkling. "What are you doing right now—what is this? Is that supposed to be—is that your fake southern accent?" her fidgety eyes land on her bubbly brunette best friend. "Please, don't—don't do that ever again. It's just _wrong."_

Riley rolls her eyes, and there's a slight smile tugging on her glossy lips. "Fine I won't make anymore Texas jokes, that's your thing, but you're whipped Maya. You're whipped."

* * *

Maya nearly _runs t_ o the subway to get to Lucas' apartment. She is settling this _right_ now. If anyone is the whipped one in their relationship, it's him, not her.

She climbs up to his fire escape, pounding on his window a little too powerfully. Lucas unlocks it, opening the window for her. She crawls in quickly. He begins talking, "you could have just came in through the door, my mom doesn't care? Aren't you supposed to be with Riley anyways?"

Maya grabs him by the collar, pulling him into her. He gasps slightly at this, looking down at her with an indent in his brow and question in his eyes. "I came in through the window so your mom won't know I'm here, then when I _kill_ you, she won't know it was me." Maya hisses out, narrowing her dark eyes on Lucas.

"I think regardless if my mom knows you're here or not, you're going to be the number one suspect if I'm murdered."

She fastens her grip around him so it's even tighter, but he pushes her arm down and gives her a tender smile. He has both his hands circled around her biceps. She glares at him. "Now," he puts on his most endearing smile. "Why is my sweet, beautiful girl friend threatening to kill me this time?"

She ignores the compliments and shoves her hands into his chest. "I am not whipped, okay?" she asserts. She walks away from him, pacing around his room. His eyes never leave her.

"I'm going to this stupid hoe down because I like seeing you happy, _not_ because I can't say no to you."

He nods. He takes a step towards her. "Okay," he catches her gaze.

"Okay?" she crosses her arms across her chest. "That's all you have to say— _okay?_ "

"Yes?" he responds innocently, giving her an incredulous look, raising one of his eyebrows.

"Farkle!" her eyes bug out. She points a finger at him. She steps on her tip toes but he's still towering above her. "He thinks I'm whipped, right? The homework thing."

Lucas grins at her. "Maybe? I don't know."

"You're the whipped one," she decides. She crosses her arms again and nods. She is putting more weight on one of her legs so her hip is popping out slightly.

"Okay," he allows it.

"Fuck you, Lucas," she mumurs. "Are you really agreeing to it? Or are you just saying okay to piss me off?"

"I don't know. What do _you t_ hink?" he pokes her chin with his index finger. She swats his hand away, scrunching up her nose.

She rolls her eyes. "I swear I will end your life Ranger Rick. Right here, right now. Say goodbye because it's over."

"I guess I better say goodbye to you then," he steps closer.

"Unless you want to admit you're the one that's whipped, then yeah," she shrugs, her eyes wide and innocent. She puts her hand on her chin, hitting it with her finger as if she's thinking it over carefully.

"I probably should call Farkle too. Tell him that you're so afraid that your whipped that you're willing to just kill your boyfriend to make the problem go away."

"That _is_ the truth, isn't it?" she plays along.

He pulls out his phone. _God, he's so annoying._ He actually calls Farkle. She hears him on the other line. Because Lucas has put him on speaker "Hey, what's up?" Farkle greets.

"Hey, so I am just calling to say goodbye. Maya's planning on murdering me tonight—not sure how, maybe she'll make a noose—call it a rope trick."

"You guys have a really weird relationship, Lucas," Farkle sounds more distressed than amused.

"Just make sure that the police know it's her."

"Will do."

"Fuck you Farkle," Maya rips the phone out of her boyfriend's grip. "I've known you longer, you're supposed to be on my side—helping to hide the body and all that shit."

"Lucas is my best friend, sorry Maya."

"Fine then, you're next."

"I'll sleep with one eye open," Farkle responds in a monotone, beating her to what she was going to say.

Maya hangs up on him. She looks at Lucas who looks amused and smug, and everything she does not want him to be right now. He takes his phone from her, winking, shoving it in his pockets. He tips his imaginary hat at her and puts his hands in his pockets afterwards. He sways his body back and forth, switching from the balls of his feet to the heels.

She raises her hand up, clenches a fist in the air and then slumps down on his bed in defeat.

He stands in front of her, lightly tapping her ankle with his foot. "So, what happened exactly?"

"Riley thinks I'm whipped."

He nods, sucking his bottom lip in. "Why?" he requests.

"Because I listen to your country songs, and I'm going to a hoe down with you—and I do my homework now. Hell, I went to church with you! I'm not sure what's wrong with me," she sighs.

Lucas chuckles in that way that she's ever really noticed when he's in the presence of her. He sits close to her, his thigh touching her, his mouth to close to not think about kissing. She can smell his cologne and she suddenly remembers she still hasn't kissed him today.

" _Maya,_ " he begins in a tender, soft voice, his hands clasped together between his knees. "I don't think you're whipped. Believe me, you're not whipped."

"Then what am I?"

"I don't know," he says honestly. He stares at her with an intense stare; the green forest in his eyes catching fire. "But I know how I feel and I know that I'm in love with you," he professes in a sure, completely confident tone.

She gapes at him, her heart plummeting in her stomach, no parachute to secure it's landing. She gulps.

"So," he starts up after a moment. He's got that glint in his eyes—the endearment, the smugness, the amusement at her stunned state. "When I do nice things for you—nice things that I know will make you happy, like letting you draw all over me, or making fun of my Texas heritage or pulling pranks on teachers, I know it's because I love you, not because I'm whipped."

"Oh," she voices, her eyes still popped out. She didn't realize how tight her grip was on his bed was until she unclenches her fist.

He kisses her and she kisses him back. His hands are in her hair and she's pushing him back on the bed. They kiss until it hurts to breathe. Afterwards they lay in his bed, just staring at each other. Lucas has his arm around her shoulder, tangled in her messy hair, and she has got her palm against his chest.

She climbs on top of him after a few minutes, pressing their bodies together, putting her lips to his neck. She breathes against in his skin and hears him groan. "I'm want to give you a Texas shaped hickey," the words press against his skin. She kisses him on the neck before nibbling at it.

He laughs at this, "I'm sure if anyone could do it, it'd be you."

She nibbles at his neck for a while longer as he rubs her back and combs his fingers through her blonde locks. She eventually stops because she knows if she does it for too long it'll be purple and his mother will _definitely_ notice it.

She stays on top of him though. She sits back up, but she is still straddling him. "Is this comfortable?" she asks.

He places his hands at her waist and then slides them down to her hips, pushing the fabric of her shirt away so he's pressing against her skin and bone, and nothing else. She breathes in, biting her lip, looking upon him fondly.

"It is very comfortable," he tells her.

"I'm not too much weight?"

He scoffs, "no."

She nods. "Do you want me to give you another hickey?"

"So my mom can send me to another state as punishment? No thanks."

She giggles, moving her bottom lip in and out of her mouth. She places her hands on his stomach and pushes up his shirt so her palms and fingertips are with his warm skin.

"Do you want me to say it back?" she asks, staring down at her hands and the patch of his skin right before his belt.

"If you mean it," he responds.

She smacks her lips together, the corner of her lips tugging up a little. She rolls over and hits the back of her head against the pillow next to him. "I'll mean it," she murmurs.

He is gazing at her, his eyes unblinking and his irises sparkling with hope and care. He turns on his side so he is hovering a little above her. He looks down at her, awaiting for her to say it. He kisses her. She kisses him back. It's tender and beautiful and breath taking.

"I love you, huckleberry," she whispers as his lips pull back from hers. She opens her eyes after she says it. He's beams at her, glowing. It's the face he made after she said she'd go to the hoe down, but a thousand times more appreciative, a million times happier. She wishes he always looked like this, she realizes.

So, if she's whipped, or whatever, she doesn't really care because she loves him, and he loves her too—she isn't, but if she was, it wouldn't be the worst thing in the world.

* * *

 **leave a review pls**


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